Chapter Twelve
It was ridiculous, really. She had known he was coming.
Had even selected her gown with that in mind.
Yet when his voice reached her, deep, certain, and impossibly close, the world narrowed to a single sound.
Her breath caught, and her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.
It was nerves, or the weight of what they were building.
Yet beneath her ribs, something restless unfurled, a flutter she couldn’t quiet.
It had seemed like nothing. A note written in her aunt’s hand, sealed with the family crest, passed to the footman with quiet instruction. “For Lord Ashcombe,” Lady Eastbury had said. Nothing more. No wink. No smile. Just the tone she used when she had an extra place set at the breakfast table.
Now it was clear. Her aunt had not left this meeting to chance.
Relief rose at not having to navigate this uncertain courtship alone.
And yet a flicker of wariness threaded through it.
Was this her choice, or had her aunt quietly taken the reins again?
Still, a part of her was grateful. It meant Gabriel was here, not by accident, but by intention.
And he had accepted.
The morning sun slanted across the floor of the Eastbury drawing room, painting long gold lines across the Aubusson carpet.
Leticia sat straight-backed on the settee, her posture immaculate, while inside a low hum of anticipation stirred.
She had chosen the soft lavender gown her aunt once complimented, and taken extra time with her hair, subtle acts that were habit, not hope.
Yet now her gaze flickered toward the clock more than once.
Would he look at her as he had in the garden, with recognition, rather than mistake?
Her aunt, as ever, was composed. Not distant but quietly observant, a thread of cool steel beneath the civility.
When the butler announced Lord Ashcombe, Lady Eastbury did not flinch. Instead, she poured the tea.
“Cream, my lord?” she asked, as though this were any ordinary call.
Gabriel entered with a slight bow. “No, thank you.”
Leticia rose and curtsied, catching her breath at the sight of him, impeccably dressed, composed, and reserved. Yet beneath the polish, she saw the man who had stood in the garden and kissed her not with charm, but with feeling.
“Lady Eastbury,” he said. “Lady Salisbury.”
Aunt Margaret gestured for them to sit. “I’m glad you see the value in spending time together,” she said, stirring her tea. “If this engagement is to proceed smoothly, it will require careful coordination.”
Leticia said nothing. Gabriel inclined his head.
It was like a treaty between two nations, except she was both the prize and the problem. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Absurd, and yet… oddly comforting.
Aunt Margaret adjusted her spectacles, her fingers as precise as her tone. Even her teacup had been placed back on its saucer with exacting care. She reached for a small notepad and turned over a page.
Her breath hitched. What now? Was her aunt about to declare a list of unacceptable behaviors? Expectations? A prickle of unease touched her spine, even as a flicker of gratitude bloomed. At least there would be no guessing. No mixed messages. Just the rules. Whatever they were.
“I have outlined the expectations. There will be no further surprises.” She glanced at him over her wire glasses. “The proposal was scandal enough.”
Gabriel’s stillness wasn’t passivity but precision. He listened like a man trained to hear nuance, one who had sat at negotiation tables far more treacherous than this. He wasn’t merely accommodating her aunt. He was evaluating the terms, and he did not flinch.
Her aunt continued, “You may see each other under the following conditions. You may walk in the garden after supper. You may call twice per week for tea, and on Sunday after services if you attend with the family. A chaperone will be nearby. If you wish to write letters, they are to be sent through me.”
Gabriel gave a faint nod. “Understood.”
“You may send modest gifts,” Lady Eastbury added, “Nothing inappropriate, nothing lavish. Anything that draws further attention will be returned without comment.”
Gabriel’s lips twitched faintly. “I shall attempt restraint.”
“I should hope so.” She turned to Leticia. “And you will not wander into gardens without your gloves or your sense.”
Leticia managed a prim smile. “Yes, Aunt.”
“There are to be no more rumors. No whispers. No ambiguities. Sommer-by-the-Sea thrives on gossip, but it wearies of it just as quickly. Let someone else provide a better scandal.”
Gabriel inclined his head. “It won’t come from us.”
“See that it doesn’t.”
Lady Eastbury stood. “You may walk in the garden. I’ll remain here with my embroidery. If I stand at the window, you’ll know the conversation has gone on long enough.”
They rose together. Gabriel offered his arm. Leticia took it.
*
The garden was drenched in sunlight and honeysuckle. Gravel crunched underfoot, and skirts brushed the clipped box hedges. The air smelled of warm stone and flowering vines.
“You accepted all that rather easily,” she said.
“Did I have a choice?”
“No.”
He smiled. “I did the wisest thing a man can do. I agreed with the woman in charge.”
Leticia’s lips curved. “You’ll make a fine husband yet.”
“Only if you’ll make a forgiving wife.”
The words were spoken in jest, but something about the ease of his voice and the curve of his smile unsettled her. Not in fear, but in the way fantasy starts to feel like memory. As though she’d always known him. As though she might trust him, if she weren’t careful.
They turned the corner by the espaliered pear trees that grew on the far wall. He slowed his step to match hers. Could something true begin in the middle of a false engagement? She could not be certain. But she wanted to find out.
“It was honest.”
“But difficult.”
“Truth usually is.”
They walked a few more paces. Leticia stopped near the arbor, her hand resting lightly on the trellis. “I’ve asked myself something since the masquerade.”
“What’s that?”
“Is it me or the mission?”
Gabriel didn’t answer right away. “At first, it was the mission. Now… it’s less clear.”
She looked up at him. “I don’t want illusions.”
“You deserve more than that.”
He reached for her hand. This time, she let him take it.
“I wasn’t planning this,” he said. “Not the proposal, not the investigation, and certainly not you.”
“And yet, here we are.”
“Yes,” he said. “Here we are.”
He leaned in, giving her a chance to step back.
She didn’t. For a single heartbeat, the world stilled, and only the whisper of the breeze and the nearness of him remained.
Something in her braced, then broke. The wall she hadn’t realized she’d built.
The kiss, when it came, was gentle and sure, a declaration made in silence.
It wasn’t merely the feel of his lips or the warmth of his hand.
It was the startling ease of it. As if she’d been waiting for that moment longer than she dared admit.
Her fingers curled against the sleeve of his coat. His hand cupped her cheek. They didn’t rush.
When they parted, she stayed close.
“That changes things,” she whispered.
“It already has.”
They walked back toward the house, slower this time. Leticia’s heart was a careful tangle of hope and confusion. Each step with him was both grounding and unsteady. She wanted him to say something that would reveal what he truly saw when he looked at her.
But he said nothing. And she was too afraid to ask.
At the threshold, Gabriel paused. “I should say goodbye to your aunt.”
Leticia opened the door. “Of course.”
Lady Eastbury met them in the drawing room. Her needle paused over her embroidery hoop.
“I trust the garden air did you both some good.”
Gabriel inclined his head. “It did, ma’am. Thank you for the invitation and your guidance.”
“You will need both,” she replied, with the barest smile, “Do take care on your return. And do send word of your next visit.”
Something unfamiliar flickered in her aunt’s expression. There was a softness, a warmth she couldn’t place. It vanished quickly, but it stayed with her.
“I will.”
Leticia followed him to the door.
At the threshold, she paused. “Tomorrow after supper, then?”
He gave a half smile. “Tomorrow.”
She watched him walk away.
Lady Eastbury stood near the drawing room door, her embroidery set neatly aside. She crossed to Leticia, her expression unreadable until she reached her side.
“You’re blushing, my dear,” she said, looping her arm through Leticia’s with surprising tenderness.
Leticia started to deny it, but her words caught somewhere between a smile and a sigh.
“Come,” Lady Eastbury said, steering her gently back toward the parlor.
Leticia glanced toward the door, but he was already gone. The garden beyond shimmered in sunlight, unchanged. And yet, nothing in her life was as it had been only days ago. The kiss had unsettled more than her heart. It had rearranged her expectations.
“Let’s finish our tea,” her aunt said lightly, though her eyes lingered on Leticia a moment longer. “There’s more to discuss than ribbons and reputation.”